Separate
by Telperion
Summary: The house isn't the only thing that's separate. George/Mitchell.


It starts out quite innocently, as a hug. Not even a hug, really – more of a friendly arm around the shoulders as Mitchell guides him out of _that_ room, deep in the bowels of the hospital.

And George barely notices even that. He's too busy adjusting, remembering how _not_ to be the wolf.

He's still wary of this situation. Not the wolf thing – he may not like it, and he's certainly not used to it yet, but he can at least accept the _fact_ of it. It happens, and that's unlikely to change any time soon.

No, it's not that, but the Mitchell thing, that makes him nervous. He still can't quite understand why the vampire is here – after all, tradition (and Hollywood) would suggest that his kind and Mitchell's kind don't get on very well.

But Mitchell's not like other vampires. At least, he's not what George _imagines_ other vampires are like – again, the lycan thing means he hasn't really hung out with many vampires previous to Mitchell.

But he knows the abstinence is unusual. He can see how much effort it takes Mitchell to be that way, and it impresses him.

He still doesn't understand why Mitchell would help him, though. Quite apart from the vampire versus werewolf element, he suspects he's not the kind of _person_ Mitchell has traditionally associated with. He's not cool, he's not sophisticated. He's not…sexy.

And yet Mitchell is trying to help him. Him, George. It's weird, and he tries not to think about the whys and wherefores of it.

The second time it happens, it's more noticeable. It's been a bad full moon for George, and when Mitchell arrives he finds him shivering and disorientated. He risks unemployment for them both by bundling George out of the hospital, into his car, and back to the house, where Annie plies him with tea in a way that's so _normal_ that he can't help but bounce back.

Still, he notices Mitchell looking at him – that continual flicking of his eyes to George's face that started in the car, when George wondered if perhaps Mitchell was worried he was going throw up, or perhaps rip his throat out, and hasn't stopped now they're home.

It makes George uncomfortable in ways he can't quite identify, and he decides to ignore it, in the hope it'll go away. That Mitchell will stop _watching_.

And either he's better at ignoring things than he thought, or Mitchell really _does_ stop. And in the days that follow Mitchell is Mitchell once again, and George is George, and they carry on as before.

The third time it happens it's unavoidable. The coast should be clear, but it isn't, and suddenly Mitchell's pushing him backwards, back into the devastation that he prefers not to witness with his human eyes.

"Cleaner," Mitchell whispers, and George wonders briefly why a cleaner (a cleaner that's not Mitchell, anyway) should be down here, in this part of the building where no one but him ever goes, and which, if the world is functioning properly, should have ghost stories associated with it.

But he doesn't wonder for very long, because something else catches his attention.

Namely, Mitchell.

It's impossible not to notice him. He's standing no more than three inches away, pressing George back into the wall by the door, his body touching George's in far more places that George thinks is really necessary.

Mitchell isn't looking at him, and yet somehow George can tell he's not _really_ focused on the receding footsteps of the cleaner.

But he's looking past George, and in the light filtering in around the edges of the door the pale curve of his throat is the only part of him that really stands out. George stares at it, not unaware of the irony in this reversal.

Then he wonders why he's doing it at all. The cleaner is gone now – they should be moving, leaving, going back to their normal, _human_ lives.

But they're still standing here, and now Mitchell _is_ looking at him. And George has only a split second to wonder if his eyes are black because of the darkness, or because he's _Mitchell_, before Mitchell leans in and kisses him.

_Thank god we're not in the house._ The thought flits briefly across his mind, incongruous, before he's kissing Mitchell back, both of them hidden in the darkness, neither of them pulling back.

And yet, despite this, despite what they're doing now, George still doesn't understand _why_. He doesn't understand why he wants it, and he doesn't understand why Mitchell wants it. And in this moment he thinks perhaps he never will.

Eventually they draw apart. George can hear Mitchell breathing heavily in the darkness, but he doesn't know what to do next. So he says the first thing that comes into his head.

"Time to go home?"

Mitchell makes a sound – it could be agreement, it could be disappointment – and opens the door.

They go home, and George is George again, and Mitchell is Mitchell.

The next full moon is twenty-eight days away, and George can't decide if he's dreading it, or looking forward to it.


End file.
